My Soul to Keep
by sakuyavalentine
Summary: One-shot. Lexine x McNeil. Weller. Rated for language.


**My Soul to Keep - 0**  
>(a Dead Space fan fic)<p>

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Lexine Murdoch gazed with half-closed eyes out of the shielded hull of the _USG Ishimura_'s emergency shuttle, fighting off the first undulating symptoms of sleep. She glanced at the control module, pretending to understand the diagrams and string of algorithms streaming across the illuminated monitors. Although she had not slept fitfully in a week, and indeed, had not closed her eyes for a moment these last two days, she hummed gently to keep herself awake, afraid of what she might dream of if she succumbed to her fatigue. "…Though I know not what you are. Twinkle, twinkle little star."

On the other side of the reinforced glass, distant stars glimmered brilliantly in the eternal vastness of deep space; remote galaxies, each with its own planetary systems and asteroid belts and orbital moons. It was a sight of wonder; a sight of limitless imagination and endless possibilities; an emotional swell of overwhelming courage and unimaginable sorrow. In another time – another place – she might have thought the vision beautiful – a testament to the inexorable will of Man; now, it brought only an unrelenting sense of loneliness.

"Fuck!" Lexine, startled by the sudden outburst, swivelled in the captain's chair. In the living quarters at the back of the shuttle – made up of all but four compact bunks in a room the size of a large lavatory stall – sounds of a scuffle erupted from the soft cacophony of lulling machinery. Her heart beat fervently in her breast as she considered abandoning her station in favour of Nate's bedside. The last time she had attempted such a thing, she found him in a severe state of undress and was promptly escorted back into the cockpit by visibly shaken, but no less imposing, Gabe Weller.

Weller stood over the bunk, trying to look authoritative but winced at the ache in his side. McNeil writhed in the bunk, grasping with his left hand the shredded stump where his right one used to be. His flesh was a translucent white and dappled with a sheen of sticky sweat. He'd lost a great deal of blood; his RIG shone a putrid yellow, and they had little more than a First-Aid kit supply of med kits aboard the shuttle.

"You said you did this yourself?" Weller asked, tearing a strip of McNeil's bloody shirt with his teeth. He wrapped the strip around the stump and tied it tight to stop any further bleeding. McNeil's wound was ghastly; splintered bone and shredded flesh, strips of skin like an old flag. The stench of sweat, stale blood and cauterized bone filled the small cabin. With a small pair of medical scissors, Weller trimmed away the hanging trails of flesh.

"With a rock saw…Had no choice" McNeil nodded; his foggy gaze glittered with tears. "Fucking hell."

"Sorry." Weller chuckled in spite of himself and produced a syringe from a med kit, tapping the bubbles out gently with his thumb and middle finger. He pressed the needle to McNeil's arm and watched as the liquid slowly drained out. It would be a moment before the drugs began to work. "I never thought I would ever admit this but you are a far better man than I could ever be. This bloody gunshot nearly killed me, and here you are: Cut off your own arm and think little of it. It's thanks to you that we survived all this, you know? Don't tell anyone I said that, of course."

"I couldn't have done it without you." McNeil produced a small smile. "How's Lexine?"

"In a far better state than either of us." Weller pulled out the needle and set it aside. He watched as McNeil's chest rippled with rapid, shallow breaths. He was a soldier, not a doctor. He'd done all he could for his old friend. McNeil would have to hold out until they reached the Sprawl.

In the subsequent stretch of silence, Weller contemplated the events of the last forty-eight hours. It was hard to believe that any of it had been real. Were it not for the bullet hole in his abdomen, or McNeil's missing limb, he likely wouldn't have believed any of it had been real at all; simply a frightful dream that he had only just woken from, rather startled.

Weller pulled open the door and glanced at Lexine, sitting at the control panel. "You really care about that girl, don't you?"

McNeil swallowed, his mouth dry and closed his eyes; he had never felt so tired. "I never told you; I was the one who shot Sam Caldwell."

"Lexine's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. I knew at the time that we – that is, P-Sec – hadn't any other choice. He'd already killed his extraction team, and began firing at us when we entered the Megavent. After everything that's happened…Seeing what became of all of those people, I don't think taking him into custody alive would have been possible... I'm certain now that Caldwell was just another victim. But I still felt guilty. After meeting Lexine…I knew I had to protect her. I had to make things right. And now…"

Weller nodded; although he would not have done the same. He had never been the sentimental type. That was one of McNeil's strengths; perhaps it was something worth considering. "I suppose near-death has a way of drawing people together. It makes you consider what's truly important in life."

"I think I love her," McNeil said. He rolled his head to the side, staring at his missing limb. It was still startling; to expect to see one's hand and find only empty space in its place; to recall the tingling sensation of cold, the sizzle of heat, the soft, smooth warmth of another person's skin, and know that you would never feel those things again. His heart drubbed steadily, slowly. His breath whistled in his nose.

"You owe me your life," McNeil said suddenly, "for saving your sorry ass on Scorpio 6."

"Would you like a medal?" Weller assumed he was making fun, trading quips and slinging insults in the affectionate manner they used to as young men. An attempt to leave the terrors of Aegis VII in the Cygnus system and look forward to a dull but pleasant future aboard the Titan Station.

But McNeil's brow came together. There was great pain in his gaze. For the first time since the nightmare on Aegis VII began, it appeared McNeil had given up hope. "I want you to promise me that you'll look after Lexine for me."

"Oh come on, McNeil; don't start that! After all that we've been through…" Weller shook his head. "You're going to be all right! Once we reach the Sprawl, you'll be patched up as good as new. And then you and Lexine can get married and have a bunch of little babies together."

McNeil smiled; he liked the sound of that. But…

"You have to do it for me, okay?" McNeil raised his hand, trembling, and Weller knelt beside the bunk, grasping it in both of his. "She's a good girl. She might get into trouble from time to time, but she's good. And besides…there's something special about her, I know it. Someday, I'm sure, you'll fall in love with her too…"

Weller cleared his throat, but could feel the tears brimming behind his eyes. He had witnessed many good men die during the Resource Wars, during mining accidents, and most of all these last couple of days. But this was different. McNeil had saved his life; they were brothers.

"Promise me."

"I can't; she won't want me."

McNeil squeezed his hand. "Promise me!"

Weller hesitated. At last, he yielded with a sigh. "All right…I promise."

"And don't tell her I had anything to do with it."

"All right."

Weller stood with a nod and opened the door. Lexine turned in the captain's chair again, her eyes growing wide with anxious curiosity. Weller gestured her in with a tilt of his chin and she all but ran across the shuttle, squeezing in beside McNeil's bunk. Weller turned to leave, letting the door shut quietly behind him. When he was gone, Lexine sat down on the edge of the bunk, mindful of her head, and opened the med kit Weller had left aside. She pressed her lips together in a line and folded a moist cloth, dabbing it against McNeil's drawn brow.

"You're burning up," Lexine said.

McNeil coughed violently. "Lex…"

She smiled gently and wiped a spot of dirt off his cheek. "We'll reach the Sprawl in about two hours. I'm sure they'll want to keep you in the Medical Center for observation but I was thinking that afterwards – you know, once everything settles down a little…"

"Lex."

Lexine paused. "Yeah?"

"I'm not going to the Sprawl."

She shook her head; not because she did not agree but because she did not understand. "What are you talking about? We're all going to the Sprawl together. After everything that's happened…We're not just going to part ways!"

"No, you're right." McNeil coughed again. His vision swam and he could barely keep his eyes open. His arm stung, burned, like a thousand small insects were slowly devouring the flesh with dull teeth. His stomach swirled and burbled. He felt like he was going to be sick. He rolled over and reached across the small room, rifling through the bloody P-Sec uniform Weller had courteously folded earlier. He leaned back and slid his pistol into her lap. "You and Gabe are going to go to the Sprawl, but I'm not coming with you."

McNeil closed his eyes, composing himself. "I've been thinking…about what Eckhardt said before we boarded the _Ishimura_: If the Red Marker really was the cause of what happened to Aegis VII…What if the CEC knew? What if this 'accident' wasn't really an accident at all?"

"Nate, you're scaring me." Lexine trembled. "What are you saying? That my father and Sam and Dr. Brennan and Dr. Howell and Eckhardt…Everyone on Aegist VII and the _Ishimura _died for nothing?"

"I lived through a war fought by bureaucratic conglomerates; companies of pressed-suit assholes sucking planets dry. Those people didn't give a fuck who they hurt, so long as it put power in their hands and money in their pockets. When I transferred to Aegis VII I wanted to believe the CEC was different, but it's the same damn thing and if they're after the Marker…" He shook his head. "As far as Earth Government is concerned, you and Gabe were fortunate enough to get off the planet when the mass suicides began. You boarded the _Ishimura _and transferred to a more qualified shuttle to make it back to the Sprawl. You left immediately; understood? They never have to know what happened while we were on board."

"Nate; stop it!"

"Never tell anyone what happened, Lexine!"

"Nate…Please…"

"If the CEC is responsible for what happened on Aegis VII, there's no telling what they'll do if they even suspect that you or Gabe may have found out the truth."

"But we don't know anything!" Lexine argued. "Everything you're saying is speculation; hearsay."

"The _Ishimura _was selected to extract the Marker. I am certain that there were documents on that ship; we just didn't find them. But if the CEC has something to hide, they'll think you're lying – regardless of the truth. And I can't stand the thought of you being put through that."

McNeil curled his fingers around her small, warm hand. His RIG bleeped softly. A cool chill swam down Lexine's shoulders. She crawled into the small bunk, drawing his fevered form against her, her fingers buried in his short, damp hair. His shallow breaths pressed warmly into the space between her neck and shoulder; a rancid stench of iron and decay.

"Gabe! Gabe!"

"There's nothing he can do."

"You can't die, Nate," Lexine cried. She drew back slightly, supporting his face in her hands. She tried to smile. "We're going to go to the Sprawl…all of us. And you and Gabe can tell me all about the Resource Wars; I'd love to hear it. And I'll tell you about my father. You would have liked him. We'll go there together and we'll be so happy, okay?...Nate?"

His eyelids fluttered over his murky eyes. His RIG bleeped on. The chemiluminescent glow had darkened to a deep red.

"Nate? Nate, please! Say something."

Slowly, McNeil moved his lips, but little more than incoherent cracks of air came out. His chest deflated with a wheeze, like an old balloon with a leak and his RIG produced a long, pitched drone. Lexine felt all of his muscles relax simultaneously; his hand dropped heavily to the mattress and his body sagged against her.

Her vision blurred behind a wall of warm tears. This was not happening: Her father. Sam. Eckhardt. Dr. Howell. Dr. Brennan... "No! You can't die, Nate. Please don't die. Please! I can't lose you too. Nate…"

Weller stood rigid in the cockpit, half leaning over the control deck. Lexine's gasps and broken weeping exploded in the tight, cramped quarters; a cataclysmic eruption of sorrow that made him close his eyes to refrain from joining her.

He drew a long, heavy breath and raised his head. He called up the shuttle's communications board and waited as the transmitters searched for an open frequency. On a second monitor, he ran a diagnostic of the shuttle. Over the next thirty minutes, the shuttle's vitals appeared across the screen: hull integrity, air quality, fuel supply, cabin pressure, landing tethers, auto-pilot, communication frequency…

Weller started to nod off before a sharp, shrill scream jolted him back into consciousness. "Lexine?"

The door to the cabin at the back of the shuttle clattered open and Lexine tumbled out, shrieking. In her wake, one of the massive, limbed creatures from the _Ishimura_ lumbered into the cockpit. The creature threw back its fleshy skull and roared, spraying hot blood across the walls. Lexine stumbled and fell to the floor and crawled on her hands, vehemently groping the steel panels until her fingers touched the familiar curves of McNeil's P-Sec pistol.

Black smears rolled down her cheeks; she raised the gun and stared down the barrel. "Oh God!"

The creature dropped instantly and fell still, coughing out a couple raspy breaths before vomiting blood and a thick, yellow bile.

Weller jumped from his chair and lifted her onto trembling knees. "Lexine, are you all right? What happened? How did that thing get on board?"

"We let it on board," she whispered. The pistol felt heavy in her hand; the creature's blood was warm on her face.

Weller stared at the creature. It was a long moment before it struck him like a cold bolt of lightning: The creature only had one arm. "…McNeil?"

Lexine screamed. Weller pulled her into himself, his arms tight around her shoulders. She cried and beat her fists against his chest but he held on. He stroked her head gently. "It'll be all right now, Lex. We'll get through this."

Weller glanced back at McNeil, or what had once been McNeil. And as he stared at the creature, at its taunt, rotted flesh and pointed teeth and lolling tongue, at the gnarled fingers that were more like claws, and the empty sockets where two bright eyes should have gone, at the curled spine and jutting ribs, knots of sinewy muscles and cloven toes, he thought about what Eckhardt said, what the Unitologists believed…

If this was Heaven…he wanted no part of it.

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**Disclaimer: **_Dead Space_ and its related characters belong to EA, Visceral Games, and all respected creators.

**Author's Note: **This is a re-upload; I originally submitted this story under a different username but I've decided not to use that account anymore. I honestly don't really even know why I created it in the first place. A lapse in judgment.


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